Yet.... Yet.... How strong she is!... She plants herself firmly upon her forepaws and gradually thrusts herself backwards through the opening and from under my hand. And now she already has her forepaws on the outer side of the window.... I am seized with terror.... Hot and cold chills pass through me.... I begin to call for help....
Fie, what an evil dream! How my heart throbs! I go to the window. Outside it is still raining; the night is black, and on the window ledge lies the black cat, peacefully coiled into a ball.
I place my hot forehead against the cool window-pane and am consumed by a passionate wish. May the other one, too, be only an evil dream! And I shudder.
Oh! Oh!
To-morrow—to-morrow—to-morrow!...
A TALE OF A HUNGRY MAN
A TALE OF A HUNGRY MAN
Itsye had for two days in succession had nothing in his mouth; in other words, he had been hungering. But on the third day, for three brass buttons he wheedled the lunch out of a little Hebrew school pupil that studied in the school of his yard—two little buttered cakes—and swallowed them eagerly. Then he became angry. The cakes were a mere morsel to him, but now he had at least a little strength with which to feel anger, and was seized with an impulse to accomplish evil. His fingers itched with the desire. First of all he launched a wicked kick in the direction of Zhutshke, the little dog which the landlady of his house held dearer than her own children. Zhutshke ran off yelping with pain, but this was not enough for Itsye. He tore up a stone that had been frozen to the earth and with all his strength sent it flying after the dog. It did not strike the animal, however, but landed on the door of Simkin the lawyer’s house. It struck with a resounding blow, and Itsye felt satisfied, for he wouldn’t have cared had the stone struck Simkin or Simkin’s wife on the head.
But with all this his hunger was not appeased in the slightest, nor was his seething heart calmed in the smallest degree. He waxed still angrier, for he felt that these were mere trifles, that he had accomplished nothing with them. He walked through the gate, glanced up and down the street, and felt that he was an enemy to every passer-by, and especially to every one that rode. He cursed them with bitter oaths and would gladly, with his own hands, have executed all tortures upon them.